


Everybody's Darling

by Schattenmalerin



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Bertram trying to put in a good word for Dorian, M/M, Sequel to "My Lovely Ghost", also Bertram seeing right through Gary's feigned hatred for the Toreador, basically my Toreador "Dorian" and the Nosferatu gang getting along just fine, he's the favorite guest in the Nosferatu haven, more shenanigans between them, nope Gary isn't amused about this fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-19 04:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20325085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenmalerin/pseuds/Schattenmalerin
Summary: Sequel to "My Lovely Ghost"The Toreador fulfilled his deed and safely brought his valued spy Barabus back. By returning the favor with fetching him the wanted information, Gary anticipated the end of their interaction - well, far from it!Apparently the Toreador made himself quite indespensible around his haven and everyone of his fellow kin seemed to be getting along with him just fine.How the hell did that smug, flamboyant fledgling became "Everybody's Darling" right under his nose?!





	Everybody's Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm back, yay! :D It took a little longer than I wanted it too, sorry for that.  
For those of you who haven't read "My Lovely Ghost" I'd recommend to read it first and then come back here, because the story builds on the prequel. Those of you who already read it, have fun with this ;)

  
It didn't take more than half a week for Barabus to stroll into the warrens and as glad Gary was to welcome his precious spy safely back in his haven as displeased he was to see the redheaded Toreador following behind him.

"Home sweet home," Barabus exclaimed, giving Gary's shoulder a strong clap. "It's good to be back."

"Chinatown didn't treat you well, Barabus?" Gary cackled at the almost blissful expression on his spy's face. Must have been quite a trip for him if he missed that rats nest so much.

"Ahh, I had it! Hacked in all the good stuff, gathered information, easy as pie," he sighed, a dark look flashing across his face. "Then stumbled across studies they'd collected 'bout us. Real dangerous stuff, you know? So I thought, why not taking a trip into their base and fucking with their data? When I realized it was a goddamn trap those fuckers already put me in one of their cells, preparing me for some sick tests."

"So I take it the fledgling fulfilled his end of the bargain?" Gary's eyes barely grazed the Toreador, still it was enough to notice the smugness radiating off him while he leaned nonchalantly against the wall. _Some things never change, huh?_

"If saving my ass was the deal, then hell yes," Barabus nodded. "Really did a good job in there, especially for a _Toreador_ fledgling."

A chuckle slipped past the Toreador's lips, sounding far from offended by Barabus' tease. They shared a short grin, almost on friendly terms.

Gary didn't like it one bit.

"And the incriminating data?"

"Taken care of."

It was the fledgling answering him instead of Barabus, the same grin now directed at him.

Gary didn't even think about giving him the satisfaction of returning it.

"Destroyed, alongside the whole personnel of that shitty organization," Barabus added triumphantly. Then in a more serious tone: "I'll leave you two to it for now. I'm in dire need of a little nap. After that I'll fill you in on some detailed information I found about the Kuei-jin."

Gary nodded, watching Barabus walking toward the door, though not before stopping next to the fledgling and clapping his shoulder. "You know where to find me should you feel the need to train those fragile arms of yours. And…thanks again."

The Toreador carried out a elegant bow, grin never leaving his features. "The pleasure's all mine."

Barabus snorted with laughter, definitely entertained by the flamboyant edge to the fledgling. "You're something else, little one."

Then he stepped out of the room, leaving that grinning, puffed-up Mr. Charming all to him.  
_What luck I have._

"_My lovely ghost._" The Toreador wasted no time to get on his nerves, striding toward him with the same graceful motion he put in almost every movement his delicate body made. "I'm highly pleased being allowed to lay my eyes on your enchanting appearance this time. And to be so openly welcomed in your domain, Mr. Golden."

_And there goes my hope the fledgling's trip to Chinatown learned him one or two things about humility — straight out the window._

"Then you'd be doing well to remember your manners, boss." He stared him down, a threatening glare sent the other's way. "Else you'll be walking out without that cheeky tongue of yours."

"I regretfully sense you are not in the mood for a little play today, so I cut right to the chase.” There was almost a spark of dejection shadowing over the well-proportioned face, as if he felt hurt by his curt denial. Gary didn't believe one bit of the charade the Toreador was displaying. "The Ankaran sarcophagus. Where is it?"

"Don't wet your pretty pants. A deal is a deal and I intent to keep my promise,” he sneered, flashing his crooked teeth. "Though you didn't need to bring your vainglorious ass down here. A little phone call would've done the deed."

"Oh, I'm sure of it," the fledgling shrugged his shoulders casually. "Then again, I have some other business to attend to down here."

"I sense a blatant lie when I hear one, boss," Gary chanted back, his voice a calm warning. "You see, there's no business _you_ are having _down here_ without dear old Gary knowing of it."

The small, lopsided grin was almost too much to bear. "I'm afraid there is," he interjected with a soft tone, only adding further to Gary's disliking. "You didn't stumble upon a CD somewhere around here by chance?"

"CD?" he snarled, "Your Camarilla Prince trying to open up a music shop after messing up with that cafe?"

Now this coaxed a touch of surprise out of the Toreador.  
"I'm delightedly surprised you remember my ramblings the other night."

Gary ignored the friendly looking smile thrown in his direction, just as he ignored the strange feeling of being caught doing something against his character. He really didn't want to push that fledgling's ego even more by admitting to actually listening to his ramblings, but the damage was done — and irreversible.

"As amusing such an idea would be, no," the Toreador continued. "This time, my client is your infiltration specialist."

Gary pricked up his ears. _Infiltration specialist?_ There's only one specific Nosferatu coming to mind.  
"Tung? Haven't heard much of him lately."

It was true. Last time Tung corresponded back to him was a few weeks from now, talking something about a precarious situation with the Baroness of Santa Monica he needed to take care of. Since then: Silence. Not that he was really worried for Tung. He always was working pretty independent and autonomous. Still…

"How is he doing up there?"

"Better since his feud with Therese Voerman was called off," he answered, sounding pleased with himself for the attention he received — or that he actually had interesting information for once. "He's a nice and funny guy to be around, once you get to work with him and know him better. He's warming up to me." At that the other grinned, clearly proud of his oh-so-great achievement.

Gary just snorted, a mix of mockery and disapproval.  
"He's getting old and senile then."

The amused rise of an eyebrow, the soft chuckle leaving his mouth — it wasn't the reaction Gary was anticipating, was _aiming for_.

His dealings with Toreadors were limited to necessary, short verbal exchanges in which Gary was versed enough to aim at their arrogant, narcissistic nature to get them all riled up. This one though…this one here was a strange one, with an almost sympathetic composure and humor towards all his "insults". It was as unnerving as it was intriguing — even if Gary wouldn't admit the latter.  
  
"Better go find your little CD for Bertram," he sneered, smirking in false friendliness. "Seems important to him. I'll provide your information meanwhile."

"Be right back," the Toreador nodded, already his back to him. Then he turned around one last time, executing a both endearing and mocking bow. "Always a pleasure making business with you, _my lovely ghost_."

There was a nasty reply on the tip of his tongue, but the Toreador gave him no chance: With his signature feature — that goddamn teasing wink — he took use of Celerity and dashed out of his room.

_Little shit!_

*

Despite their haven being a chaotic pile of old and thrown-away shit the fledgling found the CD in mere minutes, giving Gary barely enough time to fold the paper before the other one came rushing in.

Without further ado he harshly pressed the paper into the other's hands, nodding curtly. "The address."

A look of confusion flashed across the Toreador's face. "You could have just told me?"

Gary averted his eyes, giving a dismissive wave with his hand. He heard the crinkling of paper being unfolded and cursed himself, even before a soft, deep laugh reached his ears.

"You've…even drawn a map for me?"

He did. Not sure why he even bothered making such an effort of helping the other one. Then again, he had saved Barabus without backtalk and with apparent ease and fought his way down here in the first place. There seemed to be more behind that pretty face, even if Gary was still reluctant to accept that fact.

"A deal's a deal a—"

"The deal was only the address, though," the Toreador interrupted in a know-it-all manner and Gary could feel mustering eyes on his features. "Not a complete map."

"You don't want it? Then give it back, _Toreador_."

He stretched out his hand in order to rip the map from the fledgling's hand, but missed when the other turned slightly to the side, hiding the paper safely behind his back. His free hand wrapped around Gary's wrist, catching him in motion.

"No, I…" There was a strange sparkle in those bright, amber-colored eyes and the other stopped in his tracks, forehead wrinkled in a look of confusion and deliberation. There was clearly something going on in his mind, but the expression disappeared soon enough and left the pretty face with the usual carefree smile. "I gladly take it. How cute of you."

As if on cue Gary yanked his wrist free, not even knowing why he let the Toreador touch him in the first place.  
"Don't you have a sarcophagus to find?"

He didn't wait for a response to use Obfuscate, disappearing from the Toreador's eyes.

A sigh — another signature feature — left his lips. "Sadly I have. Until we meet again."

_Oh, hopefully not at all!_

***

His wish stayed unfulfilled as in the last two weeks the Toreador became a well-known and frequent guest in their haven — much to Gary's chagrin.

After retrieving the Sarcophagus for LaCroix he was sure the prince had sent his lapdog on a rescue mission of some archaeologist at the Leopold Society in order to get more helpful clues on how to open the sarcophagus. Apparently though the fledgling wasn't in a hurry to fulfill LaCroix orders and instead spent more and more time down here.

"You scared of those hunters, boss? Oh, you should be. They gonna burn that pretty face of yours, make you sing in the highest notes. I bet they like torturing such a beautiful fragile thing," Gary had said at one of the unexpected arrival of the Toreador, trying to get under his skin.

"They can't torture what they can't catch, ghost." And as if to emphasize his words he dashed forward with inhuman speed, barely stopping in front of him with an never-ending grin on his lips and Gary was actor enough to look as unimpressed and unaffected as always, staring down in utter condemnation at the strands of striking red hair falling over his bright eyes.

_Narcissistic little poseur._

"But I'm delighted to see you in such worry for my well-being. Seems I'm growing on you, huh?"

"The only thing growing is your already pompous ego, boss."

He was rewarded with a lighthearted laugh. Then he moved away as fast as he approached him, leaving for Mitnick's room.

After that little chat Gary avoided further conversations whenever the fledgling took a trip down here and instead focused on keeping a sharp eye on him from the distance, watching him strolling around the haven with head held up high as if he owned this fucking place!

He also carefully watched him interact with the other Nosferatu and grudgingly noticed a serious lack of the usual resentment on his clan member's faces when talking to the Toreador. In contrary: The "little one" — as he was endearingly titled by Barabus since recently — somehow managed to throw around that disgustingly suave charm of his and won the monthly "Everybody's darling"-prize without real effort. And the worst thing? Right under his nose, without him having a chance to stop the fraternization going on between his kids and the redhead.

*

The first one to fall for that goody-goody-act was Mitnick, his tech specialist and now best buddy of_ little red riding hood_ here.  
Gary wasn't really surprised at that, though. Mitnick had never cared much about the inherent hatred the Nosferatu harbored for the Torries, especially not when one is offering help with setting up the Nosferatu hub.  
Yes, Gary had listened in on their first conversation, heard the oh-so-noble offer of the Toreador, watched the deal they made in pure spitefulness, just waiting for that fledgling's act to fall completely apart when confronted with a real firewall, password secured terminal or even just a few lines of code to decipher. No doubt that behind that pretty face was as much brain as he let on with his charade: Zero, that is.  
But then Mitnick came to him, all jittery and cheerful, with news that the Nosferatu hub was finally set up and that the main actor in this task had been the fledgling. Gary was both reluctant to believe it at first and then pissed off about owing that Toreador even something as tiny as a "Thanks".  
After that the Toreador spent more and more time with Mitnick and Gary could catch them both sitting in front of his terminal, working and typing away on it, vividly discussing some program or firewall.

*

If the redhead wasn't in Mitnick's room he could be found at their haven's entrance, wrestling with Barabus, just like the spy had offered the other kindred at their last meeting.

Gary observed their interaction with torn feelings: On one side he loathed the way they were behaving all buddy-budy with each other, on the other side though, seeing the Toreador getting his ass handed back to him by Barabus was more satisfying than stealing the sarcophagus right from under LaCroix's highborn ass.

_However the fledgling managed to fight his way down here past the Tzimisce creatures, he definitely didn't use pure body strength_, Gary thought while watching in endless gloating how the redhead was thrown to the dirty ground for the tenth time in an embarrassingly short time. A few red strands had detached themselves from his man bun, falling wildly in his face; the Toreador tried to blew a particularly disobedient one out of his eyes, before he accepted the outstretched hand and let himself be pulled up with so much momentum that he nearly stumbled into Barabus in the process.

"Definitely need to work on your punches, little one," Barabus grinned, giving him a firm clap on the shoulder under which the fly weight stumbled and caused Barabus' grin to get a bit wider. "And work on your stance," he added, "And those fragile arms. And your body strength overall—"

"Just say I'm a basket case, why don't you, huh?" There was a certain amount of frustration flashing over the Toreador's face, yet with the way he pursed his lips he reminded rather of a sulking child.

Gary snorted in mocking amusement, almost immediately drawing attention toward him as the fledgling threw him a glance.

"Always delighted to be good for a laughter, my lovely ghost."

He wrinkled his nose upon hearing the nickname the fledgling had put on him without his permission, feeling irritated and a tad embarrassed.

"My lovely ghost?" echoed Barabus, a mix of perplexion and amusement in his tone. "Did I miss something out between you two?" His eyes wandered between him and the Toreador, showing a mischievous grin that could compete with the one plastered on the redheads lips right now.

"Good question," his "favorite" guest said, giving him a way too innocent look. "_Did_ he miss something out _between us_, ghost?"

There was a touch of something in the other's voice, in the way he made eye contact that made Gary think there was more behind these words than there should be, the _possibility_ of whatever deeper implication laid underneath the redhead's teasing words causing a electrifying crackle in the air between them.

"Nothing of importance," he broke the strange moment, his tone firm and hard.  
Ignored the almost burning gaze of the Toreador as best as possible he turned away, angry at himself for the way the other managed to make him feel uncomfortable with his charade.

*

After Mitnick and Barabus being best buddys with the fledgling, Gary at least expected the females to be more clever than that.  
Imalia turned out of be his biggest hope — and most devastating disappointment. First she seemed to hold the same aversion against the Toreador, even calling him an "arrogant brat" and Gary was thankful to see at least one of his children being immune to whatever charming words were flooding out of that redhead's cheeky mouth. So when he saw the Toreador enter Imalia's room one day, Gary was ready to take a seat in the front row, chew some imaginary popcorn and watch the Toreador having his ass handed back to him by Imalia's irascible temper.  
When he came out of her room though, a satisfied smile on those well-formed lips and a wink thrown in his direction — _again, that little shit!_ — Gary started to seriously doubt his mental state. What the actual fuck did he miss?  
Upon entering her room, as much confused as he was pissed off, he found her staring admiringly at her own poster, a picture out of some dirty magazine.  
"You know, he's not that bad after all," she mumbled, keeping her eyes trained on her poster and why the hell did he embrace and turn her into a Nosferatu, if she was still caught in her narcissistic, superficial thinking? Didn't she learn? Did that fucking Toreador need to come down here with that poster and spark up that disgusting part of her personality?  
Gary was close to just tear that poster down and throw it into the next corner, but he was convinced Imalia would bite off his ear before he could even have a chance to lay his little finger on the poster. And since his ear was very dear to him, he discarded the idea as soon as he came up with it, leaving her room even more discontent than upon entering it.

The next few days Gary noticed with increasing frustration how '_not that bad_' turned into '_pretty amazing_' and before he even knew some jazz music was chiming out of Imalia's room. Upon throwing a glance inside he found both her and the redhead in a dancing stance — his one hand in hers, the other wrapped securely around her waist, while hers laid on his shoulder — moving in sync through the room and Gary hated to admit the professionalism behind their motions, but even more he hated that his eyes barely even swiped over Imalia. Hated the elegancy in the Toreador's every single movement, a fluent and smooth synergy of attractive physique, upright posture and passionate temper burning in those bright eyes. Hated how much of that captivating charm and charisma radiated from him with every tiny motion he executed. Hated that he _noticed_ it in the first place, his eyes glued to him for an embarrasingly long time, before he finally blinked, shook his head and tore his gaze away from long limbs and elegant build.

Henceforth, whenever there was soft music coming out of Imalia's room, Gary made sure to stay as far away as possible.

*

Last but not least was Nyria and as Gary should find out by overhearing one of their little chitchats, she and the Toreador met before, somewhere in the warrens where she lingered around sometimes. Apparently, to Gary's utter disbelief, the Toreador had helped her fighting off a few of those dangerous Tzimisce creatures on his way toward his haven, already being in Nyria's good books. It didn't help that the Toreador ever so often came down here to race her through his haven, both of them having a knack for sprinting and _friendly_ competitiveness.  
Gary wasn't sure what bugged him the most: The turmoil both of them were creating in his haven due to their competitive shenanigans, the irreversible fact that they seemed to get along just awesome or that the Toreador, despite having the clear edge over Nyria due to Celerity, ever so often let her win the races, _oh-so-accidentally_ stumbling over some trash lying on the ground, being his_ generous_ and _noble_ self._ Pah, as if!_  
Oh right, now he remembered what really bugged him the most: His private rooms being abused as part of their race course!

"What did I say about my private rooms, Nyria?" he once chided her after finding the two of them running around his table, nearly throwing over the chairs in the process.

Nyria just gave him a pout, looking way too unimpressed by his warning glare.  
"Oh come on, uncle Gary," she sighed. "Don't be such a party pooper."

And Gary's eyes widened horrified and mortified, even before he heard the deep, by now familiar chuckle.

"Uncle?" the redhead echoed and there was no need to throw a look at the Toreador to know he was mightily amused by the unexpected nickname.

"Do not call me that, Nyria," Gary retorted, trying to keep as much dignity as possible by appearing extra authoritative.  
It didn't work. _Of course it didn't work, why should it, hm?_  
The Toreador still looked overly gleeful about the whole situation — Gary tried to ignore him as best as possible — and Nyria just rolled with her eyes, her rebellious personality coming through.

"Oh god, since when are you so touchy, hm? You're no fun today." And with that she stomped out of his room, leaving him alone with the Toreador. _Why does everyone leave me alone with that fucking fledgling?!_

"You look really cute when you're embarrassed," the redhead commented, giving him one of his lopsided grins.

_The nerves of that Toreador!_

Gary bared his teeth, not taking the mockery — because no matter how sweet and endearing he might appear, he was mocking him. He had to mock him, there was no other option, right? — lightly.

"Yeah, almost as cute as your face, boss," he gave back, walking up to the fledgling with predatory slow steps, stopping directly in front of him. He felt a rush of satisfaction upon seeing the openly confused, even faintly uncertain expression on the other's face. Leaning forward a bit, glaring down at him he added in a lowered voice: "When stuffed in a piranha tank, that is."

He expected a nervous gulp, a faint terrified shiver running along the Toreador's back or perhaps an indignant snort leaving his mouth, but not him taking a daring step closer to him, pushing himself into his personal space.

Gary's hand snapped forward immediately, grabbed the other's throat in a silent warning. The delicate skin underneath his finger's began to shiver, his Adam's apple moving up and down uncontrollably.

"Scared?" he murmured with a sharp grin, his tone a calm threat, his fingers squeezing a little bit tighter.

The soft chuckle with which the Toreador replied to his warning caused even Gary to arch his eyebrows. _Is that one suicidal?_

"No, not scared," he whispered softly, the unspoken "but" clearly audible in his voice. He didn't shy away from eye contact, gazing up at him with half-lidded bedroom eyes, a strange, inscrutable sparkle shining in those amber-colored orbs while faintly leaning_ into_ his grip, into the fingers that almost strangled him … and Gary tore his hand back as if he'd burned himself as realization hit him.

"You're a naughty one, huh?" he mumbled without thinking, still feeling the smooth skin underneath his rough fingertips. It shouldn't feel so…intoxicating.

A smile — _a strangely seductive one_— laid itself on the Toreador's lips as he lacked any sense of shame or restraint. On the contrary: he fluttered his long eyelashes almost innocently, his tone too husky for Gary's liking: "Wanna find out how much exactly?"

Gary loathed himself for the undeniable urge to wrap his fingers around that delicate throat again, to leave his marks on the pale skin, see those bright eyes flutter close as he'd squeeze just a tiny bit more. He could almost hear the soft, docile moan escaping that pretty mou—

"You're still here!" Nyria was back, hands on her hips and Gary had never been so thankful for getting interrupted in his thought process than right now. "Come on, we're not finished yet."

Obviously she talked to the Toreador, who looked a bit caught off-guard, one hand sliding absent-minded along his throat where Gary's fingers had squeezed only mere seconds ago._ What a fucking tease._

"I won't let you go, till I won at least one race against you, Dori!"

_Oh, we've already reached the 'nickname-stage', huh?_

Gary wrinkled his nose in displeasure, though was straight up ignored by Nyria.

"Already coming, Nyria," the Toreador announced, giving him a last playful grin, then leaving his room with Nyria. Before the door even fell close behind them, they were racing through his haven again, causing their usual chaos.

It was nothing compared to the chaos inside Gary's head.

***

"He's not that bad."

The voice reached him unprepared and harshly Gary tore his gaze away from where Mitnick was currently talking with that… arg,_ that fucking Toreador with those striking red hair and bright eyes and a laugh that <strike>can lighten up this dark pile of shit without a problem</strike> is so unnerving I want to shut his mouth forever!_

No, Gary hadn't been staring and no, he didn't behave as if he was caught doing it — He was too good an actor for it.

Bertram was too good a judge of character to fall for his act of indifference and composure, though. Gary saw it in the way the other Nosferatu gave him that knowing look out of little eyes.

"Tung! What brings you down here?" he exclaimed loudly, cutting off whatever words laid on the other kindred's tongue. His grin was a bit too wide, almost edging into a sharp one. "Missing the smell of shit and trash of the warrens already?"

Bertram let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, Gary. I'm just here for Mitnick and Cupcake," the other nodded toward said kindreds, still laughing about something on Mitnicks terminal; Gary didn't really notice any of that, too stunned about the nickname his fellow Nosferatu used.

"_Cupcake?_" No doubt he rather spat out the words than saying it, the condemnation clearly audible.

"Yeah, Cupcake, fledgling, little one, Dorian, redhead, whatever you wanna call him, I guess," Bertram shrugged his shoulders, a nonchalance in his motion. "As I said, he's not that bad."

"And here I thought at least you would know better than to be charmed by his little charades and pretty face," he snorted loudly.

"You sure _you_ should be talking about _me_ getting charmed?" The corner of his mouth wandered up into knowing smirk; Gary didn't like it one bit, yet he disliked the following sentence even more. "I wasn't the one staring at his ass a few seconds ago."

He'd never been more happy about possessing an inscrutable pokerface than he was right now, because otherwise he'd probably be stuck in an endless circle of stumbling words and lame excuses. Instead though, the turned completely toward Bertram, facing his comrade with slow and dangerous movements, his eyes firm and unrelenting.

"I can't follow your words, _Bertram_." His tone was a quiet warning as he continued to stare down at the other. "So I think it's better for _us both_ to drop this topic as fast as possible, don't you think? In fact, I would watch with whom I hang around, if I were you."

A laugh of pure amusement and it was so not the response Gary had aimed for. Then again, that happened quite a lot lately, ever since that little fucking Toreador stepped down here and into his haven.

"You know me, Gary," Bertram answered, his voice conciliating, yet persistent. Gary hated it when his collegue used this tone on him. "I don't rub elbows with the pretty bloodsuckers much, but this one," he nodded to said Toreador and shrugged his shoulders casually, "aw, he's alright, you know? Is he using his charm and _pretty face_ to fool others? Yeah, probably." Another nonchalant shrug, then in a more serious tone: "But I've seen him work difficult cases where his charisma was useless and still he managed. He helped with the Nosferatu hub, he fought his way down here and," a winning grin played around his lips, "he even helped _you_ with those little delivery errands, did he not?"

_How the hell did he find out about that moment of weakness?_  
Yes, he might have emailed the Toreador once or twice — or maybe even four or five times — to deliver him some items he couldn't get his hands on from down here, but hell, that didn't make him some sort of saint!

"You must be naive to think he did it out of the goodness of his heart," Gary retorted, giving the other Nosferatu a snort. "He just wants those dirty little posters I reward him with. Typical Toreador, obsessed with beauty and superficiality, how I_ loathe_ their—What's so funny?"

Bertram had serious issues to hold back another series of short laughters, even under Gary's hard gaze he couldn't stop a grin forming on his lips. "What's so funny?", he echoed, clearly amused by something Gary didn't know. "The fact that your _typical Toreador_ didn't even bother to look at your little rewards, let alone hang them up inside his room."

"That doesn't make any sense…" _Why else should he do all those unnerving delivery errands if not for satisfying his hunger for beauty and those posters I send him?_

"Or it does. Maybe he _actually_ wants to help you," Bertram countered before smirking mischievously. "Or those girls just weren't his _type_. I remember him mumbling something about rather wanting a poster of a half-naked LaCroix or Nines. Seems like he's playing for…_the same team_."

There was an undeniably cheeky smirk on Bertram's lips, one that he tried to ignore as much as the strange way this information somehow … intrigued him when it definitely shouldn't.

"Do I look like I give the slightest fuck about that?" His tone was extra harsh, immediately lifting up a finger in a stopping motion as he saw his conversation partner opening his mouth. "A rhetorical question, Bertram," he warned lowly, "_don't answer_."

"Whatever you say, Gary," he laughed amused, not even hiding that he didn't buy any of his words. "But maybe you should just give the guy a chance, huh? Invite him to a movie night or something. Get to know him better. Maybe you two get along better than you think."

"Or maybe you inhaled too much fresh air up there," he murmured sarcastically, wrinkling his nose in displeasure at the sheer imagination of spending a whole night with this flippant, flamboyant, flirting little shit.

"Just think about it." Bertram gave his shoulder a light clap before wandering off to his actual goal.

_Just think about it? Not gonna happen! So not gonna happen._

***

** _A few days later_ **

_To: Dorian@home.vtm_  
_From: Gary@schrecknet.vtm_  
_Subject: And you call yourself an art connoisseur?_

_I heard your kind is all about fancy artistical talents and interest in arts, isn't that right, boss? So how come you never seen one of the most famous and extraordinary movies of all times? And don't even deny it, boss, I know you haven't the slightest clue about the real classics! Too old for your generation of shitty reality and talk shows, huh? Well, I can't have you running around my haven pretending to be an oh-so-knowledgable art connoisseur, if you haven't even watched Tap Hotel or Pirat Town._  
_Next Saturday, 10 p.m. in my room._  
_No being late, no opening your cheeky mouth and no misinterpreting this meeting, got it, boss?_  
_This is purely because I can't stand any more of your ignorance for one of the best movies of all time. Someone has to teach you some art knowledge and who's better suitable for it than Gorgeous Gary himself? _  
_So better be thankful, Toreador._

_<strike>Your lovely ghost</strike> Gary_

For the sixth time his eyes scanned over the email he tipped, for the sixth time his long finger wandered to the "Send" button, only to stop there.

_What am I even doing here? Inviting that little poseur for a movie night? You finally reached the endlevel of your madness, Gary!_

His finger wandered up again to the "Delete" button, close to just calling off whatever fucked-up idea his fellow Nosferatu had planted inside his brain. He could almost see Bertram's face in front of his inner eyes, grinning mockingly at him, calling him a coward for not going through with his plan and Gary pressed his lips together tightly.

"Fuck you, Bertram," he mumbled gloomily while finally hitting the "Send" button with a harsh press of his finger, shutting the laptop close immediately after.

_I'm only doing this to prove you wrong. Only to show you there's no way to get along with this oh-so-great Toreador._

And it was like Bertram actually answered him inside his head, the same amused and knowing tone from before:  
_Whatever you say, Gary. Whatever you want to believe._

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Say what you want but some Nosferatu call Gary "uncle", I'm sure of it xD  
2) As I made my way through the warrens in the game I stumbled upon a Nosferatu down there fighting against those fucking awful creatures; I helped her and she thanked me before disappearing with Obfuscate. That's Nyria in my story (just for those of you who might wonder where she came from)  
3) Yes, my Dorian has a little choking kink, don't judge him guys or else he gets shy and might not want to appear in a sequel xD  
4) Bertram is just trying to subtle play matchmaker between these two ;)  
5) It was quite the challence trying to portray the whole "Nosferatu gang" in this chapter as in-character as possible… especially Bertram's and Gary's conversation, because we never saw them talk with each other in-game. I hope, I managed to write them as good as possible (Gary might have lost a bit of his sass throughout the chapter, though I think it serves the plot for him to be a little less "hostile" when talking about Dorian at this point in the story).  
6) One final part planned, could take me some time to write it, but I try my best, so see you then, guys :)


End file.
